


Mystify

by marginaliana



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-23
Updated: 2006-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all his protestations about God and religion and self-control, House had long had a secret yearning to experience a moment of spiritual ecstasy, of mental abandon. Set pre-No Reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mystify

For all his protestations about God and religion and self-control, House had long had a secret yearning to experience a moment of spiritual ecstasy, of mental abandon. He wanted it all the more for the fact that he didn't think himself capable of having it.

House's outlook on life had always been inescapably solid and real. Every moment was restricted to what he could see and hear and touch, and his mind was always analyzing, taking in the data and spitting out conclusions. Even when House had sex, his brain kept thinking, wondering about a tricky patient or a knotty philosophical problem, or considering the intricacies of the human body that made it so pleasurable. In the midst of orgasm, sometimes, he tried to think of nothing, to let the waves of sensation wash over him and to let himself be pulled under. But it never worked; something inside him was always like a rock in the ocean, utterly unmoved.

Even after the infarction, the pain far more intense than any pleasure he'd ever felt, House was always mentally present, always _aware_, his misery made stronger by the fact that the pain never quite took over, that he knew what he must look like, whimpering and vomiting in his hospital bed, or later, by the way the Vicodin left his mind active but his actions dulled, trapping him inside with no way to push words past his lips. He hated it, and even more, he hated the fact that the very thing that made him special and important – his observant, brilliant mind – was also the source of his worst unhappiness.

It was a foggy day when everything changed. House rode his motorcycle home from the hospital, thinking idly about the way the headlights flickered along the veils of mist wreathing the blue streets rather than piercing them. When he arrived, his building was oddly quiet; the neighbors' lights were on but they seemed to move stealthily between rooms, their chatter muted.

When he stepped inside, Wilson was there, his face taut with something House couldn't quite name.

"Yo, homeslice," said House, his mind still calculating the frequency of his headlights and the density of the humidity that had enveloped him. The door was open behind him and the mist crept in, cooling the room as it twisted around them.

"I can't—" said Wilson, and then he stepped forward and drew House into a kiss.

The moment seemed to go on forever. House's eyes were open, and he felt pierced by Wilson's intense, almond gaze. Wilson's lips were slightly chapped, and House found himself wondering why his friend was obsessive about blow dryer use but couldn't be bothered with chap stick. Then Wilson's silken tongue slid against House's and all thought fell away.

Before House could analyze what was happening he was backed against the wall, Wilson pressing one knee between House's legs and undoing the buttons of his shirt with nimble fingers. His palm slid over one nipple and House arched upwards, panting. He threw his head back, thought replaced by sensation, and slipped one hand around Wilson's waist to pull him closer as the other clawed at the wall.

Then Wilson pulled back, the look of focused desire on his face fading to one of wariness.

"You're making this too easy," he murmured, and turned his face away. "Is this what you want, or…"

House's brain came back to itself and he flinched, recognizing the position he'd been put in. Wilson, _Wilson_ of all people, was the one he needed, the one person wild with the power to make each of House's moments come alive. Wilson, whose tangled web of friendship had been enough to keep House going even in his darkest moments. Wilson, who was always searching for a kind of perfection that House knew he couldn't provide.

Past relationships flashed across his mind, hearts he knew he'd broken – Stacy, running from one sick man only to be trapped by another; Cameron, almost like Wilson in her need to fix people but without the kind of twisted, beautiful strength that Wilson had. House knew he could break Wilson's heart just the same. Right now, he was in control.

But before he knew it, he was growling his answer, his thoughts only having occupied a split second.

"I want this."

A slow flush spread over Wilson's face and he sank to his knees. _Funny,_ thought House as Wilson pulled down the zip of his pants. _He's the one kneeling, but I'm the one praying._ Then Wilson's mouth closed over his cock and he forgot how to think again, not knowing whether he was crying out Wilson's name or only "fuck, yes" as he thrust, hard, into the hot cavern of Wilson's mouth.

House slid one hand into Wilson's soft hair, lost to anything but the way Wilson's tongue wrung shudders from his hips, the way Wilson's long fingers curled onto his hip. A few more thrusts and he came, his whole body singing with sensation.

Wilson stood after a moment, his hands soothing along the taut muscles of House's chest as he slowly put himself back together. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant process.

"All right?" he said quietly, and House smiled.

"I'll survive."

Wilson laughed. "I'm sure."

House reached out and slowly stroked his hand along Wilson's face, watching the faint flush recede as Wilson rested carefully against him.

_I wonder,_ he thought, then paused, letting out a bark of laughter at himself. _Yes. For the first time, I wonder._ He swiped his thumb over Wilson's reddened lips and leaned in, drawn irresistibly into another kiss. Wilson moaned into his mouth. House felt himself grow light-headed at the sound and paused in shock.

_How can giving be as good as getting?_ he asked himself. _That's never been true, not for all of humanity._ But Wilson's tongue was moving again and all House could think was _Wilson, Wilson… just like God you get away with breaking all the rules_ before he was once again swept under.


End file.
